Knock Em' Dead
by Ryan Johnson
Summary: The BAU team faces a gruesome and brilliantly evasive psychopath, and the only way to catch him is with aid from a most unlikely ally.
1. Robert Makers Makes a Funny

Hey guys, it has been a while. I've been hard at work on a lot, so I haven't been able to finish the few fan-fics I planned on writing, luckily this one is finished. I should be posting a new chapter every week or so. This first one is short, most of em' will be longer.

The fan-fic, while mostly aimed at the Criminal Minds characters, is also a reimagining of Batman and the villians inolved with the Batman series. If this fan-fic is well recieved I'll do more with Batman villians, where, like thsi fan-fic, the vilians are serial killers rather than mastermind bent on world destruction. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Robert Maker opened his eyes. His surroundings were new, frightening and strange. The walls were stark white and padded, like a cell in an insane asylum. While Robert had never been in an asylum, he always imagined the cells would be small, but this room was large. There was more than just padded walls. Pictures of smiling happy children were pinned in odd angles in front of him, all around a large mirror. Robert turned his head. It was hard to move. He realized that his hands were tied, that he was in a chair.

He wondered how he didn't realize his bondage before? He tried to yell and found that his mouth was gagged. The gag tasted like old sweat, and the room was freezing cold. Robert closed his eyes tight, and then opened them again. More of the room was becoming visible. Brightly colored stuffed animals were everywhere, just scattered at random. The whole scene reminded Robert of the circus. Robert was scared of the circus, ever since a rather horrid incident as a child. The memory made Robert shiver. Or was that the cold? He didn't know and didn't care. All he cared about was finding out where the hell he was and then getting out. He looked at himself in the mirror. His mind was thinking of where he could be, and how he could have gotten there. All he remembered was playing golf, then it started to rain and then… Nothing.

"Getting comfortable?" An eerily cheerful voice asked with an air of a host doting on a guest. Robert didn't turn, only stared right into the mirror. The man was dressed in a dark green vest, with a bright red long sleeved shirt under it that had a quaint, pink floral pattern sewn onto it. The shirt was roughly tucked into green slacks. The man's face was painted white, with bright green eyebrows and red makeup extending an already large evil smile. Blue eye shadow highlighted the man's sharp black eyes. The man's hands were hidden from view, grasping some unknown object.

Robert tried to yell, tried to jerk his chair, but it was bolted to the ground. The man kept his bright smile and stood right beside Robert. The man looked up.

"Mic check. One two three." He looked at Robert, "You ready? Ok, action!" The man stepped forward. "Hello world, and welcome to the Joker's Happy Hour of Hilarity! This is Robert Makers, and he is our guest for tonight's show!" The man's voice was big, the pitched changed in a way that made Robert think of a ring-master, a showman. It was higher pitched, but oddly throaty.

"Let's see what our guest has to say!" The man pulled the gag from Robert's mouth.

"What are you doing? Who are you?" Robert yelled, the man put the gag back into Robert's mouth.

"Tsk tsk, say something original. How about you make a greeting, anyone you want to say hi too back home?" The man made a sweeping gesture, looked into the mirror.

Robert looked into the mirror as well and thought of something. Two-way mirror. The bastard was filming the entire thing. The bastard was performing. The man took the gag back from Robert's mouth.

"Sarah, Sarah is you are seeing this, I love you." Robert said. Tears began to roll from his eyes.

"That's the spirit!" The man laughed and took something from his pocket. It was a sleek, menacingly silver butcher's knife. "Now, lets make you _smile_."


	2. The Knight Begins

_Here's a little chapter really early, to get things going!_

As far as Reid was concerned, only one thing could send him running from his home, and that one thing was: Termites

As far as Reid was concerned, only one thing could send him running from his home, and that one thing was: Termites. Yes, the small wood thirsty creatures had invaded Reid's own apartment and now a small army of men in suits that reminded Reid of the quarantine scene of ET were walking around the complex, spraying without mercy. And good for them, Reid thought. The only problem he had was finding a place to stay. Luckily that was covered pretty fast. The new guy of the team, Special Agent Chace Verble, had an extra room.

Chace's fiancé hadn't moved to Washington DC yet, so the room was open. Chace offered it gladly, and Reid took it gladly. The apartment complex that Chace called his new home was easy enough to fine, North up Army-Navy Drive and there it was, at the end of the road. Reid pulled into the parking garage and took out his cell. He dialed in Chace's number.

"Heya." Chace answered.

"Hi, this is Spencer, I'm right inside your parking lot."

"Alright, I'm coming down now with a parking pass for you." Chace said, then Reid got a dial tone.

True to his word, Chace was at Reid's car soon. He handed Reid a blue card, and Reid put it in his car window. He then pulled his bag out of the trunk. Chace closed the door to Reid's car, and the two of them set out to the elevator.

* * *

"You, stay on the floor! Stay on the floor!" Richie shouted, his gun tilted towards the bank teller's head. The teller whimpered and fell back onto the floor of Gotham National Bank. Richie turned and looked at his colleagues. They were all pointing guns and various bank goers, sometime kicking a man they felt was moving too close, sometimes shouting, and not at all organized. Richie sighed. He felt like the only halfway intelligent man in the entire operation. "What is the safe code?" Richie asked the teller.

"It changes every half hour." The teller whined.

" I know idiot. What is this half hour's bloody code?" Richie asked in the most condescending tone he could create.

"You've been here for forty-five minutes shouting at us, it's changed by now."

"Jesus goddamn Christ screwing Shiva!" Richie shouted. It was his favorite string of curses. He took odd glee in saying it even in such a frustrating time. One smart man in a team of 5 robbers. Life was _so_ great.

* * *

The bed was comfortable, not too encompassing. The sheets were made to near perfection. Chace joked that he was a house-slave in his former life and bad Kharma rebirthed as a FBI agent. Reid laughed genuinely. It was the type of joke Gideon would make. In fact, more and more Chace reminded Spencer of how he imagined a young Jason Gideon.

"Dinner at six?" Chace asked.

"What, are you asking me out on a date?" Reid asked.

Chace laughed. "Don't swing that way. I mean, do you want to eat at six?"

"When do you usually eat?"

"Midnight. We work in the BAU, remember?"

"Six it is." Reid smiled.

* * *

The entire bank went black. Someone had cut the power. Richie guessed cops, but he had been careful. All cell phones were taken, and there was no way in hell the teller or any other brave soul had gotten to the alert button.

Shots rang out. The room was illuminated for a flash. Richie could of sworn he saw something pass over Stuart Rockingham and then… Stuart was gone with a wild yell.

"Someone tell me what the hell's going on here." Richie said. He reached back for his bag and fumbled in it, trying to find his flashlight. He fingers closed around it, the pulled it out quickly and turned it one. A single cone was light. Scared faces of the employees and robbers were shown, and no sign of Stuart. Richie curse.

Someone else screamed. Richie flew his hand over in the direction in time to see something he didn't even believe. Shadows were taking out every robber. It was like an entire team of men were in the bank, coordinated. First Stuart, then Harold. And not even a second later. It was impossible for anyone to move so fast. Two more screams, at the same time, then the sound of a fist hitting something that sounded like metal, then fists hitting flesh, and finally grunts. Richie began to run for the door. He wasn't a fool; it was his only way out.

"Don't move one inch." Something growled. It was the scariest thing Richie had ever heard.

Richie froze in his tracks.

* * *

Dinner was plain, but tasted good, really good. Chace had a chef's side. Reid found himself going for seconds of Chace's Tortellini with Alfredo sauce.

"Thanks." Reid said, when he sat down at Chace's table with the second helping on his plate.

"For what?" Chace asked.

"Letting me stay here, and this meal." Reid said.

"What are friends for?" Chace asked, and then took a bite of bread.

"Friends? You hardly know me."

"I'm pretty trusting, and you work with the BAU, with Gideon and Hotchner. They're good judges of character, and they both seem to like you well enough. Besides, no one else I know would actually watch old episodes of Star Trek with me." Chace laughed.

Reid laughed as well, "Its amazing how most people pass it off as cheesy and pointless."

"I know, its genius, the long tense shots, the epic music,"

"And for a 60's TV-show the acting is great, the effects are,"

"Flawless." Chace finished. Reid nodded and grinned. Both of their pagers went off.

* * *

Richie didn't turn, didn't move a muscle, only stood, facing the door, waiting.

"Turn around." The voice ordered.

Richie followed orders. He turned, and before him stood a tall black figure, masked with glazing white eyes and a long black cape. The figure was armored like some hellish black knight. It's clenched fists and spiked gauntlet sent shivers all over Richie's body.

"Please, please don't kill me!" Richie begged.

"You tell everyone what you saw. You tell your boss that the Batman is coming for him and nothing will keep me from bringing justice." The figure said. The raised its arm, sent it forward, and Richie was knocked cold.


	3. Double Evaluation

_Chapter 2 is here, obviously. Reviews make me all warm inside, and lord knows I need some criticism. The next chapter will be up soon, and maybe even another Criminal Minds fan-fiction._

* * *

Jason Gideon could not take his eyes away from the 40 minute "film" playing on the projector in the BAU meeting room

Jason Gideon could not take his eyes away from the 40 minute "film" playing on the projector in the BAU meeting room. He wanted to turn it off, to look off at something else and forget that a man could ever do such a thing to another human being, but he just couldn't. He had the sound off. He did that only as a courtesy to anyone working in the offices around his. Or at least that was what he told himself he was doing. No one, except Garcia, was in at the late hour. Gideon had sent everyone home.

The man on screen called himself the Joker. No other name was given. He wasn't wearing a clown suit, but his make-up was near perfect. When it came to the cutting, the victim's blood contrasted perfectly with the UNSUB's whiteface makeup. The victim, identified as Robert Makers, had suffered both physical and psychological tortures.

Someone knocked at the meeting room's door. Gideon's mouth moved, but his eyes still did not wander from the screen. "Come in." He said.

Gideon could tell that it was Special Agent Derek Morgan through peripheral vision. Derek didn't say anything. He walked slowly into the room, watching the projector's screen as he did, and sat on Gideon's right. They both sat in silence for several minutes.

Finally Derek couldn't watch anymore. He turned to Gideon, his eyes snapped from the screen. "Gideon, what the hell is this? A joke?"

Gideon shook his head.

Derek stood and headed to the door. At first Gideon thought Morgan was leaving, but instead Derek opened the door and let in Chace, Reid, and Emily Prentiss. Gideon turned off the projector.

Hotchner and Jennifer Jareau met the team at the airstrip. The BAU's jet was ready to take flight, and Gideon was ready to explain the entire situation while en route to Gotham. It was going to be a long flight.

"Tuesday morning Gotham City's Channel 11 news received this video." Gdieon tapped a key on his laptop and turned it for the other Agent's to see. The Joker raised his knife and brought it down onto Robert Makers' left hand. Blood sprayed up, Makers screamed, Gideon tapped enter, and the video ended. "Channel Eleven sent the video to GCPD, and then they sent it to us. The victim's name is Robert Makers, 42 years old, married with no children, Jewish, and works as a computer technician. Garcia has spent the last seven hours digging into his life, and so far we have no motive for this murder."

Chace leaned over Gideon's shoulder and looked at the video. He had seen it once already, but had just had an idea. "Can you rewind towards the beginning?" Chace asked, wincing at how calm he sounded.

Gideon moved the video back.

"There." Chace pointed. "The UNSUB spends most of his time looking right into the camera, but even when the victim is crying at the camera and calling out to his wife his eye's don't focus into it."

Emily gave Chace a confused look but Reid nodded excitedly.

Morgan spoke, "Are you saying the Camera is hidden?"

"I think a two way mirror is more plausible. For one thing the victim _is _looking in the general direction of the camera. Two-way mirrors are used as often as possible in reality Tv-shows. It gives an interesting perspective on," Reid said

Morgan cut him off, "You watch reality TV?" He asked with a chuckle.

Reid was quiet after that. Derek almost instantly felt bad for prodding at the kid. There was a long silence as the plane rose in elevation. Gotham was a one-hour flight, but every minute seemed to amplify as it went on. Soon the team dissipated. Chace, Emily and Reid all moved to a set of chairs and began to discuss everything but the case. Derek and Hotchner moved to the back of the plane to find food and Gideon sat and stared out the window as he usually did.

* * *

The BAU were not the only people on a private jet watching Robert Makers take in pain. Bruce Wayne watched the video in a deep silence. He had left Gotham and came back for appearances. His second outing as the Dark Knight was successful and people would be talking about it, the news would be reporting it, and the Mob, well, they would be mad as hell. Should anyone suspected Bruce he could say he was out at the Bahamas taking in some sun, and his had a nice tan to prove it.

The video ended. Bruce looked towards the pilot's cabin.

"The Joker…" Bruce whispered. The name alone sent a shiver down his spine. Whoever the psychopath was, Batman would try his hardest to find them. But Bruce wasn't too sure he could. He had no evidence to follow, only a video that could have been taken anywhere. He decided the police would have to take care of this one. The police, or the FBI. Bruce Wayne only hoped that if the FBI did get involved, they wouldn't find extra time to look into a black creature scaring the shit out of the organized crime of Gotham.

By the end of the flight, Bruce knew it was hopeless.


End file.
